Chapter 10
Carina
The laptop screen illuminates my face as I adjust the camera angle, trying to look professional despite wearing pajama bottoms below my business blouse.
"Guten Tag, Carina!" Hans, the nervous one with glasses, beams at me through the screen. "We are so pleased you could join us today."
"Thank you for including me," I say, noting William hovering just outside the camera's view. He'd insisted on being present for the call but not visible—typical William, needing control even when he's supposedly letting me lead.
"We have been reviewing the holiday gift box proposals," Hans continues, pulling up a presentation. "Everyone loves your concepts, but we need to finalize the pairings."
This is my moment. I lean forward, confidence flowing through me. "I've been thinking about the aged Gruyère. It would pair beautifully with our truffle honey—the nuttiness plays against the earthiness, creating this incredible complexity on the palate."
"Ja, ja!" Another supplier, Friedrich, nods enthusiastically. "And for the Appenzeller?"
"Quince paste and toasted walnuts. The herbal notes in the cheese need something sweet but not cloying, and the walnuts add textural interest."
They're scribbling notes, hanging on every word. From the corner of my eye, I see William's jaw tick—that tell he has when something isn't going according to his plan.
"What about wine pairings for the deluxe boxes?" Hans asks.
"I'd suggest offering two options—a traditional route with Swiss wines, and an unexpected route with New World selections. Give customers a choice between authenticity and adventure."
"Brilliant!" Friedrich practically shouts. "This is why we need your input, Carina. You think like a chef but also like a businesswoman."
"Actually," William steps partially into frame, "we should discuss the pricing structures—"
"In a moment, William," Hans interrupts, still focused on me. "Carina, would you be willing to write descriptions for each pairing? Your words paint pictures—very poetic but also informative."
My cheeks warm at his compliment. "I'd be happy to."
"Excellent! We will send contracts for your consultation work directly to you."
William's jaw is practically grinding now. "All contracts go through me—"
"Of course, of course," Friedrich waves him off. "But Carina should review first, yes? She is the artist here."
We spend another twenty minutes discussing specifics, with the suppliers directing nearly every question to me while William seethes silently. When we finally disconnect, the tension in the room is undeniable.
"That went well," I comment.
"You overstepped." His voice is ice. "Contracts are negotiated by—"
"By the CEO, I know." I close the laptop carefully. "But they asked for my input."
"They asked because you've charmed them. That's not the same as expertise."
The dismissal stings more than it should. "Right. Because my culinary degree and years of experience mean nothing compared to your MBA."
He opens his mouth to respond, but a knock interrupts. Travis peers in, holding a paper bag that smells incredible.
"Thought you might be hungry," he says to me, pointedly ignoring William. "That cafe in the village had your favorite—goat cheese and fig on sourdough."
"You remembered?" I can't hide my surprise. I'd mentioned it once, days ago, in passing.
"I pay attention." He hands me the bag, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. "Want to eat on the terrace? The sun's finally out."
"She has work to do," William interjects. "The supplier comparison project—"
"Can wait an hour," Travis finishes smoothly. "Come on, Carina. You've been up since what, 5AM?"
I follow Travis out, feeling William's stare burning into my back. We settle on the terrace, the morning sun warm despite the snow, and I unwrap the sandwich gratefully.
"Thank you," I say after the first blissful bite. "For the food and the rescue."
"William being an ass again?"
"He's just... intense about anything business-related."
Travis gives me a look. "Carina, we've known each other for a week now. You don't have to make excuses for him."
"I'm not, I just..." I set down the sandwich. "This is all so complicated. You and me, Knox and me, William being... whatever William is being. I feel like I'm caught in the middle of something I don't understand."
"Hey." Travis scoots closer, his voice gentle. "You're not caught in anything. You have choices here. Always."
"Do I? Because from where I'm sitting, it feels like I'm navigating a minefield. One wrong step and everything explodes."
He's quiet for a moment, then: "Can I be honest?"
"Please."
"We're all a little broken. William with his control issues, Knox with his need for validation, me with my perpetual peacekeeper complex. And now there's you—brilliant, beautiful, trying to rebuild your life—and we're all drawn to you."
"That's not—"
"It is," he interrupts gently. "And it's okay. Complicated doesn't mean bad. It just means we all need to be adults about it."
He leans in, kissing me softly, and for a moment I let myself sink into it. Travis is safety, warmth, the steady ground I desperately need. But even as I kiss him back, I'm thinking about Knox's passionate intensity in the studio, about William's dangerous magnetism.
I pull back. "This is complicated."
"I know." He doesn't look hurt, just understanding. "Take your time. Figure out what you want. I'm not going anywhere."
"What if what I want doesn't make sense?"
"Since when has want ever made sense?"
We finish lunch in silence, but I can't shake the feeling of being watched. Sure enough, when I head back inside, William's waiting with a stack of papers.
"The supplier comparison project," he says without missing a beat. "I need it by the end of the day."
"William, it's barely—"
"Business doesn't wait." His tone is clipped, professional. "You can work in my office. Where you won’t be interrupted."
I'm halfway there when Knox appears, paint-splattered and grinning. "Hey, want to—"
"She's busy," William cuts in from behind me. "The supplier project—"
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Knox's grin fades. "I want to show Carina the village market."
"Business doesn't wait," William repeats, and there's something almost cruel in his tone.
Knox's face falls, and I feel caught between them—William's professional demands that feel increasingly personal, Knox's obvious disappointment that makes my heart ache.
"I'm sorry," I tell Knox quietly. "Maybe later?"
"Sure," he says, but the light in his eyes dims. "Later."
I spend most of the afternoon in William's office, working on a project that becomes increasingly clear is just busy work.
He has me comparing suppliers he's used for years, analyzing data that's already been analyzed, creating reports no one will read.
It's punishment, a way to keep me away from his brother and best friend.
"This is ridiculous," I finally say, pushing back from the desk. "You know this is ridiculous, right?"
"I don't know what you mean." He doesn't look up from his own laptop.
"You're coming up with more work to do to keep me away from Knox and Travis."
"I'm ensuring our chef understands our supplier relationships."
"Bullshit."
His head snaps up at my profanity. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I stand, anger finally overriding caution. "This is bullshit, and we both know it. If you have something to say to me, William, just say it."
He stands too, rounding the desk with predatory grace. "Fine. You want honesty? I think you're playing a dangerous game, being reckless."
"I'm not playing anything."
"No?" He's close now, too close. "Travis in the library, Knox in his studio—"
"How did you—" I stop, heat flooding my face.
"This is my house, Carina. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" His voice drops, dangerous. "Did you think I wouldn't care?"
"Why would you care?" The question comes out breathless. "You've made it very clear I'm just an employee."
Something flashes in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or desire. "Is that what you think?"
"What else am I supposed to think? You treat me like—"
"Like I'm trying very hard not to want you," he admits, the words seeming to surprise him as much as me. "Like I'm failing spectacularly at maintaining any semblance of professional boundaries. Like watching you with them is killing me slowly."
My breath catches. "William..."
"Go." He steps back abruptly, the mask slamming back into place. "The report can wait until tomorrow."
I flee, my mind reeling. William wants me. Controlled, icy William Montclair wants me enough that it's making him crazy. The knowledge sits hot and heavy in my stomach as I head to my room, needing space to think.
But the universe has other plans. Knox is waiting by my door, holding a bottle of wine and wearing a hopeful smile.
"Want to watch the sunset from the balcony?" he asks. "No business talk—I promise."
I should say no. Should take the space I desperately need to sort through the chaos swirling around in my head. But Knox looks at me like I'm something precious, and after William's intensity, I crave that sweetness.
"Okay," I agree.
The balcony is freezing but beautiful, the sunset painting the snow-covered mountains in shades of pink and gold. Knox pours the wine, and we stand close together for warmth, not talking about William or Travis or any of it.
"I've been thinking about painting this again," he says eventually. "The way the light hits the peaks. But I can never quite capture it."
"Maybe because you're trying too hard to capture it exactly," I suggest. "What if you painted how it makes you feel instead?"
He turns to me, eyes bright. "Like I did with the abstract piece?"
"Exactly. Stop trying to control it and just... feel it."
"You're brilliant," he breathes, then kisses me.